Outside my window
leaves are changing,
beginning to die and fall.
How easy it is
to get caught up
in the seeming hopelessness,
futility,
and death of life.
I consider all I have done
in my own life;
is it just so many falling leaves
to be raked up,
discarded?
Am I leaving behind
anything
of lasting significance?
Yet, fall and winter
are not the end.
Everything dies,
indeed must die.
Still it is not the end.
There is spring, summer,
birth, life, growth.
I may fear growing old,
yet, when I consider
the beauty of the earth
as she prepares for death,
her colors aflame,
I know that I, too,
can be beautiful;
I can end my earthly life
in a blaze of glorious color,
a witness to the beauty
of God's creation.
For death is not the end;
spring awaits, eternal life
I will be home with my God.